


Do you need a doctor?

by decotex



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, hannibal is clumsy, oh hannibal you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decotex/pseuds/decotex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt. Hannibal's been rather accident prone lately (with his stab wound and all), and it's starting to amuse and worry most of the people around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you need a doctor?

"I don't know. I'm not good with people. I just want -" Will paused and stared up at the bookcases, as Hannibal watched him impassively from behind his desk.

"I don't know," he finally repeated, shaking his head. "Alana is constant. She is logic and, and fortitude, and cohesion, and we would be terrible for each other." He laughed nervously.

"I mean, can you imagine the train wreck? God, it would be a disaster."

"All relationships have their imperfections, Will." Hannibal stood up and walked slowly around the desk.

"If your preconceptions of a romantic relationship with - ah."

Will frowned.

"With . . . who?” He looked over.

Hannibal was leaning on the front of his desk, as he often did during sessions. However, this time he was holding up his hand, staring at it with a look as close to confusion as Hannibal seemed capable of expressing. Blood dripped from a dark cut in the center of his palm.

“Oh, are you alright? My god, what just happened?” Will said, standing up quickly.

Hannibal turned his hand silently, and then looked down at the bloody scalpel on his desk.

“Did you . . .” Will paused, hardly believing himself. “. . . Cut yourself?” he finished slowly. The implication that Hannibal could have done something on accident seemed almost blasphemous.

Hannibal took a breath and regained his composure. He pulled his handkerchief (orange today) from his pocket and wrapped his hand, putting pressure on the gash. As he worked, he smiled charmingly at WIll.

“Yes, I suppose I did.”

“Ah . . . why?”

“It was an accident. I grabbed the exciting end of a scalpel. Very clumsy of me.” Which was partly true. What Hannibal was not telling Will was that he had leaned on the desk and suddenly found himself becoming unbalanced on his injured leg. He reached out to steady himself and accidentally placed his hand on the scalpel. He shuddered inwardly, refusing to acknowledge his clumsiness to himself. Accidents were things that happened to other people.

Hannibal finished wrapping his hand and Will suddenly realized that fascination was probably not the appropriate response to a friend’s injury. He blinked rapidly and shook his head.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"I am a doctor."

"Ah. How convenient."

For a moment, there was silence. Both Will and Hannibal stared at Hannibal’s orange wrapped hand.

“I must cut this session short on account of my foolishness. My apologies.” Hannibal said slowly, without looked at Will.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I’ll just be going,” Will said, forcing a smile. He knew he should do something else, so he awkwardly reached out and patted Hannibal on the shoulder.

“You, uh, take care. Take care of that hand.”

With one last lingering glance at the hand, Will exited the room.

Hannibal waited until the sound of Will’s footsteps faded. He stood up and walked towards the bathroom, but turned around and stood in front of the desk. He glared at the scalpel and frowned. Then, he picked up a pencil with his good hand and pushed the offending blade off the edge of the desk and into the trashcan.

**Author's Note:**

> I centered this entire thing around the exchange; "Do you need a doctor?" "I am a doctor." "Ah. How convenient."


End file.
